


Sometimes It's Hard to Think

by kiragecko



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: ADHD, Gen, Neurodiversity, Self-Insert, Torture, Torture not actually graphic, X-Men Cameos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 21:49:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20414851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiragecko/pseuds/kiragecko
Summary: A supervillain discovers the challenges of interrogating someone who can't even remember her OWN name some of the time.(Do you miss early 2000s fanfic? Are you curious about how fic sounded a decade and a half ago? Take a look!)





	Sometimes It's Hard to Think

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story in 2004 or 2005. It will never be finished, but that kind of fits, since it's a story about working around the missing pieces.  
Back then, self-inserts were pretty common. I wish they still were. It's really interesting to see how people interpret themselves in fiction. Obviously, I saw myself as a complete wreck of a human being at the time. I had ADHD and an undiagnosed anxiety disorder. So I turned them into my mutant ability!  
Torture is mentioned and described frequently, but it's a very childish depiction. Decide if that's okay for you.  
Phonetic accents are everywhere. We were just coming out of the 90s. It was the X-Men.  
Have fun!

I sat up and wiped my eyes. It took a while to realize that my hands had stopped, halfway through the gesture. They did not move to my face, no matter how hard I tried. Something was stopping them. I looked, through blurry eyes. Silver. Details, not riveted like some... thing that is just for... usefulness. Smooth, layered joints, or... ornamentation. I like that word. I like these... handcuffs? Bracelets? Things to hold me to the wall. So I can't wipe my eyes. So I can't see. It's blurry. If I could see, they might be even more pretty. I'm not sure if that's important. I like things that are pretty, but Scott says I need to concentrate, not get distracted.

Scott destroys 300 year old churches, so I'm not sure if I agree with him. Stain glass windows shattering, never to be repaired because there's no one alive who knows how. Makes me want to cry.

I think I might be distracted.

They are here too. They're fuzzy. I think my head is fuzzy. Not my actual head, it's shaved, though maybe it's grown in enough to be fuzzy. Hair grows fast. I'll have to wax again, if I've been here long.

Where am I?

Oh. I probably should have thought of that. I... I think I'm a prisoner. I'm wearing restraints. That's the word. Not bracelets. We must have got captured. We're in a dungeon, like all X-Men villains have. Metal bars. Big room. They're looking at me. My friends. He's talking... he... Kurt is talking. To me.

There is a hallway outside of the bars. No guards. Will the guards be robots? That would be cool. They will probably be big dumb guys. Faceless... what is the word, guys who do what people say? It's fun to call people that when they help someone. I think I'm usually better with words.

Kurt was talking to me. I should concentrate.

“-not heard a word I said. Please, Tija, listen to me. I need you- You're looking at me. Can you hear me, Tija?”

“Sorry. I got distracted. What is the word for the people who help out the bad guys and always listen and... I don't remember?”

“Was?”

“It's not important. I think we got captured.”

He says yes and smiles all nice and there's something else in the smile like he's sad with me. I'm not sure why. I can't see how fuzzy he is because everything's too fuzzy, which is funny. I look around. Beside... Kurt, right, beside him there's the man I can never understand... the Cajun. Then it's Miss Frost and the fearless leader, Cyclops, right. To my right (is it my right?, I've never been good at directions and I think my brain isn't working at it's best) there is Bishop and... Cajun's girlfriend, except when they fight, which is all- Rogue. Except it's Anna. Anna Marie, 'cause they wanted to be different from the movie. Last person is... my best friend... ice, except he isn't 'cause nobody has powers in dungeons... I can't remember his name. Why can't I remember his name?

“I think I'm having trouble thinking.”

Kurt is smiling again, nice and sad and it bothers me because I don't like him sad.

“We don't have our powers now, liebchein.”

Maybe I'm having trouble thinking. Did he answer my question? Did I ask a question?

“You have used your link with the internet to boost your memory, ja? I think you are having trouble accessing those memories.”

“Why?”

“Because you have no powers. You cannot talk to computers, right now.”

Of course not, I'm a prisoner. That would be silly. I don't want to talk to computers, I want to remember Bobby's name. I can't think straight. I must have a headache. I don't get those much, now. It's easy to think, usually.

I said his name. I did. I remember.

“What did I say?”

They are confused. Maybe I said something different.

I want to remember his name.

Who am I being held prisoner by? I probably should have thought of that by now. He, Kurt is right. It's hard to think without half my brain. It's sitting on a computer somewhere and I can't reach it and can't think and I have to concentrate. Get upset about important things, not my headache.

They aren't robots. It's disappointing. They come in and they don't talk and I'm almost blind (how are contacts better than glasses, they're dry and hurt and are obscuring my vision) so they really are faceless minions.

She... swamp rat? no, that's her boyfriend, she tries to kick them but the arm-thingies get stiff and she can't reach them. Why are they here? I try to remember the comics. Taking people to be questioned. Tortured. That's not good. That's... Bobby.

“Don't hurt Bobby!”

“Shh, Tija!”

I'm supposed to be stoic. I think I made things worse.

“It's okay, Tija, I'll be fine.”

He's smiling and lying and trying to make me feel better. I was supposed to be stoic. I wasn't supposed to say his name. Codenames only, on missions.

“Sorry.”

They're taking him away. Torture. That's really going to happen, not a story, not entertainment. He's going to be hurt. This world is stupid. Evil.

“They're going to hurt him.”

“Tija, you need to be quiet. We can't let them think they can use you.”

Worried. Again. Acting like I'm a little kid. Speaking slow and deliberate. I need to be quiet. People get tortured all the time. It's normal.

I'm pretty sure that's not true. I didn't used to get hurt. Not 'til I came here. X-Men get hurt. Because of bad writing, I assume. Is this still a comic book, now that I'm here? Are there still writers, doing this to... I don't know his name. It's gone. My head hurts.

It's very important I don't cry. I'm not sure why. I need to be quiet... and something else. Because of words. I have to look at Kurt... and concentrate. He's talking.

“-liking this job so far? Think it's fun being an X-Men, liebchein? You have tried so hard but-”

His eyes don't glow in the dark. Did you know that? They look like they should. None of their eyes glow in the dark, except maybe... Red, no... Blue, Green, Slim, Runt... Tall, leader-guy, Slim, Scott, Cyke, Cyclops. What was I thinking? He's mad at me. For talking. Are they going to bring Bobby back soon? He knows jokes. I wouldn't feel so bad if someone was telling me jokes.

* * *

Have any of your friends been tortured? I think it happens all the time. That's why they're stoic. I need to start being normal. I'm too used to people NOT being hur-

Quiet. Don't look upset. It's hard to see, do I look upset? I think his uniform is red, right? With pointy shoulders and a hole for the tai- no, that's Kurt's, it isn't red. Blood isn't red, either. Brown. Haven't you watched TV? So he isn't covered in blood. Maybe he's still bleeding and it hasn't dried yet. I don't like that thought. I don't think I don't look upset. Cyclops will be upset.

“I fell down the stairs and walked into a lamp-post. That's how I got the black eye.”

Why is he telling jokes? He's HURT, he shouldn't be telling jokes.

“I'm fine, Tija. Really.”

He's probably smiling. I can't tell. Bobby smiles all the time. I'm not so good at lying.

“Look, she's barely capable of forming a sentence. You don't want her.”

“Don't be stupid, hommes.”

“Leave the half-wit alone, imbeciles. Really, are you trying to choose everyone too stupid to tell you anything?”

“Hey, Frost, I resent that!”

They attach poles to my arm holder things so I can't reach them. Which doesn't make sense. I don't generally attack people unless I'm told to. I don't like violence. People get hurt. As you've probably guessed, I'm a terrible X-Man. I wonder what it's like to be tortured. Will I talk? I'm not supposed to talk.

“Tija, don't say anything!”

I think I nod. I can't see the guards faces. Do they have any? I'm curious. They're different heights so cloneliness is unlikely. What if I tell them things and they find the Mansion and kill everyone?

* * *

Maybe I should make conversation. Guards aren't supposed to talk to you but it seems rude to just ignore them. I have to think of something to say. Oh, right, I'm not supposed to say anything. But that's to the people that ask me questions, right? Shouldn't I talk to the people who don't want me to talk to them? I don't want to be unfriendly. Does that make sense?

* * *

The new room isn't very big. I think I know the man in the centre. He has white hair. That isn't important. He is, though. Important. He's a main character. He's going to be really polite and then leave me to get to know the torturer guy. There will probably be electrocution so it's good that I'm not Wolvie. Wolvie has metal bones. Not coated, like in the movie, but bonded. Magneto ripped it out. I'm not sure how it got back in. That was a sad time. Illyana died, and Wolvie left and Jubilee decided to quit the X-Men. I stopped reading after that. I really like Jubilee. Don't see her much, now that I'm here.

He just hit me!

“Why did you hit me?”

“You WILL answer my questions.”

“What did you say?”

There's time between his lips moving and me understanding. It's like when the audio and video aren't in synch. It's fun watching his lips.

He hit me again. That hurts.

Why do people usually hit you across the face? Isn't it harder to talk with fat lips? I'm supposed to be talking, aren't I? Or am I supposed to not say anything? Cyclops said that. If I don't listen to Cyclops he won't let me be an X-Man.

“Why do you think being mean will make me want to talk to you?”

“I will not be 'mean' it you start answering my questions.”

“But why would I want to help someone who hurts me? It doesn't make sense. You could have given me tea. Then I would have liked you.”

“I don't care if you like me, foolish child. I only care that you answer my questions.”

“But you HIT me.”

“And I will do it again. Talk.”

“No. You keep hitting me!”

So he hits me again! It makes no sense. He's hitting me so much now that I can't talk. Why? It hurts even more then the headache and it won't stop and I wish I could run deep into my head where the good TV shows are but my brain is missing and the TV shows are gone. Even M*A*S*H is gone. I love M*A*S*H and Hawkeye. Not the superhero Hawkeye, who wore purple and dated Mockingbird and decided to become Ronin because Marvel doesn't have enough ninja superheros. The only Avengers I really like are the Maximoffs and Captain America. Cap is kinda obnoxiously patriotic, though. It can be annoying when writers talk about how amazing America is. I'm Canadian. We insult our country. Patriotism is kinda embarrassing.

He's looking at me. Am I supposed to do something?

“What? I'm sorry. I sorta got distracted. What do you want – Hey! You were hitting me! Now I hurt lots.”

I do hurt. I hadn't noticed before.

“How are you ignoring me? How do you ignore pain?”

“My head is really fuzzy. Why do you keep hurting me?”

“You are not answering my questions!”

“What questions?”

He stares at me. I wish I could see his face better. Maybe he's surprised? Angry? I don't know why he'd be confused. Maybe I don't make sense. That would make sense. I'm a bit random at the moment. I'm not supposed to say anything. Have I said anything?

Scott is going to be so mad at me. I forgot not to say anything.

“What have I told you? He said not to say anything. I don't want him to be mad.”

He's just staring. He's sitting in a comfy chair. I'm tied to a bad chair. The light hurts my eyes. I think I'm crying a bit. It's so confusing and everything hurts and I don't know what to do. I shouldn't be an X-Man. Everyone knows it and I know it but what else am I supposed to be? I'm in the Marvel Universe. My family doesn't exist here, the only people I know are the X-Men. What else can I do? I have to hit people, like this man does, and I hate it. What did he just say?

“Once again, Lagartija, would you like a cup of tea?”

“Yes!”

My arms don't go up because of the ropes and then they do because the minion unties the ropes and I drink tea and it is wonderful and my head doesn't hurt as much and I'm smiling and I feel so grateful and I'm all warm inside and moving hurts. He hit me, you know. So I don't like him. I forgot that.

“How are we going to get you to concentrate, Lagartija? Violence doesn't seem to work. Talking doesn't seem to work. Should I wave my arm in front of your face? Dance around the room?”

“That would be funny. You were hitting me before. I don't want to concentration. Or, whatever. The tea is good, though.”

“Then I will have to talk to someone violence does affect. Nightcrawler, perhaps, or maybe Iceman again.”

“No!”

I forgot to not care again. But they're going to get tortured! I don't know what to do! He can't hurt th – he's waving his hand in front of my face.

“If you talk with me I don't need to talk to them. You can answer a few simple questions and then you can go back downstairs and no one else has to get hurt. Is that a good idea?”

What's downstairs? Is it a basement? Oh, it's a dungeon, like the one I was in. Or maybe it is the one I was in. I have to concentrate. Did he say no one got hurt? The one who got hurt, my friend, I can't remember his name, he got hurt. There was blood and it wasn't brown. Talking.

“I will drink tea and not get hit and no one will get hit?”

“Of course.”

“But maybe you will hurt them when I am not looking.”

“You will be here. I won't be able to.”

That makes sense. I think.

“Okay. I need more tea.”

We talk. I get distracted when I answer his questions. Sometimes I talk about other things. I don't say names but sometimes I forget codenames and I'm not sure he understands. He asks me to stop once and gets a thing that listens so he can understand later. A radio. No. It doesn't matter. He listens and it records and I talk about my family and the real world and how everything is a comic book but it might not be anymore now that I'm in it. It's okay that he knows my name because my family doesn't exist so he can't hurt them. I talk about Bishop and the future and Age of Apocalypse and how Magneto was good but marrying Rogue was creepy because she was 17 when she joined the X-Men. And Joseph was dumb. And boring. Days of Future Past but not Rachel because too many things hurt her then and I don't want him to say mean things to her. Then we stop.

“You will come again tomorrow. You will not speak to the X-Men. If you do, I will choose someone else tomorrow. They will not sit and drink tea. You will not communicate in any way. Do you understand?”

“Yep.”

I smile at him and then remember that he isn't nice. It's hard to remember. I naturally like people. Disliking someone is hard work.

The guards are rough. They stick a metal thing around my mouth and it's hard to breath. My nose is always plugged. Then they put the, the rocks back over my hands and grab me by the arms. I can't walk like that and fall down and they drag me. It was easier going up, with the poles that kept me far away.

* * *

I have my own cell and I can see the rest of the X-Men across the hallway. The metal is still covering my mouth which is good because otherwise I might talk. I'm not supposed to talk. One Eye said that.

I thought the supervillian said that.

I'm confused. Things are starting to spin a bit. It's pretty. I think I might have eaten something wrong. I have allergies, you know. What did I eat?

Huh, I don't think I've eaten anything. That could be the problem. I've never actually tried to see how long I can go without food.

Everything seems far away and soft and bright and nothing hurts though my body hurts. I can feel that but it doesn't matter and... I'm dizzy. I'm going to sit down.

...

Lie down. I...

...

Food? Eating food. That's good. Food. Say thank you. Say – hitting him! Why? No, don't hit! Why are you – talking. Not supposed to talk. Quiet now. Eating food. They don't need to hit Remy anymore. He's grinning, so I don't feel bad. I still do. I should remember simple instructions. Why can't I think?

I eat and drink and then they take him away, back across the hall. My mouth is covered again. Rogue is talking to me and maybe I'm doing a little better because I realize my attention is wandering. Still don't know what she's saying. Did anyone get hurt while I was lying down? He promised I'd know. What IS his name? I knew it, before. Something to do with Jubilee. Maybe? Jubilee lost her powers in the comics. When I got here I found out that hadn't happened yet. Don't know quite what the cut off point is. House of M shows no signs of happening. Wanda is still a little crazy though. When I see... purple daughter. Blue, fuzzy, tail can retract. She should talk to her mom, so Wanda doesn't miss twins. Maybe she won't because her parents split up? Should talk to... Magneto, too. He loves grandchildren, was good when Wanda had her kids. Went evil soon after they didn't exist.

* * *

The faceless minions wake me up. Drag me back up the stairs. I would walk, if they let me. Seems more work this way.

What can I talk about? Need to be caref - I have a comfy chair! There is tea and a comfy chair and the light isn't so bright! Tea is wonderful. I am perfectly happy and will sit and drink – talking. More people talking. Tired of talking, so hard to listen, I'll just drink tea.


End file.
